The Binding:  A Boba Fett Adventure
by Mr. Roboto
Summary: Multiple Chapter Tale of Boba Fett's run in with ancient Sith magic, Imperial intrigue, and a powerful Sith Sorceress.  Three chapters up so far, please review.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Binding: A Boba Fett Adventure

By: Mr. Roboto

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or the setting, just the story built around them.

Note: This is my first story, so be as brutally honest as possible.

**Chapter 1**

There was one thing that the Imperial soldiers serving under Commander Calam knew was a bad sign: Commander Calam was scratching his neck. They knew soon the scratching would spread all over their commander's body, and then they'd really be in trouble. When Calam started itching it meant he was angry. Under the pressure of the Emperor's thumb, one's job and life were never secure. The weight of it was enormous, even for a man who was relied on convenient connections rather than military skill. He was low enough to avoid the ire of the Emperor, and high enough to enjoy the life of an Imperial officer. But there were always risks in the Empire. For some these risks manifested in improved performance, for others mental breakdown, and for many, like Calam, uncontrollable and irrational rage. The reason for his conniption flew across the security screen in front of him. At his order, the camera froze on the unmistakable figure. A notorious T-shaped visor stared into the camera. Calam slumped back in his chair quivering with his silent fury, scratching underneath his left arm. Calam was oblivious to the nervous glances of his bridge officers. They had seen him in action before, and knew their lives hung in the balance of a bureaucratic civilian masquerading as a soldier, not to mention the ever present nervous tick. When Calam was presented with something unexpected, he reacted badly, and they all would experience the consequences if the Commander couldn't control himself. But that was the fundamental flaw in Calam's character. When he couldn't control a situation, he lost control of himself. Calam's lack of self-awareness left him ignorant of these shortcomings. He was only focused on the frozen image before him. The man on the screen was ruining his first full day as a Commander. Nothing would deter him now.

_He's fallen into the wrong spider's web. He may well have skill against common thieves and smugglers, allegedly, but let us see how he fares against trained soldiers. My trained soldiers. It's time to stop indulging in these games._

The element of bravado in Calam's thoughts only came with someone not used to commanding such a large force. The assumption was that numbers could overcome anything. When one ran out of ideas, just throw a bunch of soldiers at the problem. Calam also knew very little of the man behind the T-shaped visor and what he knew of the legend he was dismissing out of hand. These were not mistakes a soldier would make.

The reality was, trained Imperials were the last thing Boba Fett was worried about as he ran through the halls of the Carrack Class Cruiser. As usual, he was concentrating only on the element he could control: His own actions. To fret about variables he had no power over, was a waste of energy. Fett loathed wasting energy, among a litany of other things, including unnecessary mistakes.

_Carelessness. I should have updated my information._

Fett was referring to the events that had started the night before. He had arrived in secret, infiltrating one of the few independent shipyards still left in the galaxy. The Emperor was coming to realize that independent construction corporations made better warships. People tended to work better when they weren't at the wrong end of a blaster muzzle. It was a lesson Imperials had a very difficult time with, but the growing strength of the Rebellion was giving them a crash course. The Carrack Class Imperial Cruiser Fett was running through had just been signed over to the Galactic Empire upon completion of its construction. The armor clad bounty hunter had infiltrated the Cruiser's manufacturing plant. This particular plant was owned by the famous Damorian Manufacturing Corporation, one of the most powerful independent corporations in this sector. Fett had arrived here to pursue a certain Imperial Commander wanted by Lomon the Large. Like most gangsters, he was an unforgiving Hutt who didn't like when high rollers didn't pay up on their lost bets. Imperials seemed to be especially guilty in this regard with the might of the Empire's fleet protecting them. Most hunters would never take a bounty on an Imperial officer, but obviously Fett wasn't like most hunters. He wasn't really like anyone.

_But if I don't hurry up, I'm going to die just the same as any other organism._

He had paid a hefty price for the information on where and when Calam was being reassigned. One of Fett's many informants had discovered the Commander had just been given his own Cruiser to man. The reality is Calam was unqualified and very well connected. So naturally he got his own ship. It was Imperial meritocracy at its finest. Fett intended to personally reward the man on this promotion. It wasn't a vendetta, it was just like any other job. But deep down, Fett couldn't deny it was more entertaining when the target deserved what he got. The Mandalorian had arrived hours before the Imperials, and spent the entire night cutting into the new ship's hull while the Imperials were still en route. It was long and arduous work. He had planned to be waiting for Calam when he arrived, and make his escape out the way he had come. Unfortunately, Fett's information had not been accurate. This new model of Cruiser had reinforced hull strength. The time it took Fett to cut through, even with the most powerful tools money could buy, was one hour too long, and Calam's men were already onboard as Fett stalked the halls heading toward the bridge of the vessel. They had happened upon the hunter before he got a clear shot at Calam. The only option had been a temporary retreat. Fett had headed back for his hull breach.

_I deserve to die for being so lazy and stupid._

Fett reminded himself of the cardinal rules of bounty hunting. He was always reminding himself, over and over again. It was a constant demand for perfection that was impossible to reach. Yet failure to continually strive for it would mean certain death. His human failings disgusted him, and the only thing that alleviated that disgust was robotic recitation of his rules.

_There are three things that catch a mark, power, preparation, ----_

Fett rolled onto the ground, and then back onto his feet as a blaster bolt struck the back of his left shoulder. His back leaned against the hull, getting as close to it as he could to make himself a smaller target. The hunter had nearly bought the moisture farm. His armor absorbed most of the shock, but there were chinks in every armor. It only took one lucky shot. He fired back, forcing the Storm Troopers to take cover. Fett had nearly reached his destination. He ran a few more steps and swung through the hole, dashing toward his starship. He had parked it close by. It had cost a good amount to pay the Damorians guarding this section of the hangar to take the night off. As he reached the _Slave I_, the ship began to lift into the air, already prepped for takeoff. Blaster bolts rained around him. He was still a few feet away, as he gave orders to his ship. The Firespray turned its guns on the storm troopers as Fett climbed in, tearing them apart. Fett leaped aboard, banging his helmet on the hatch as it closed shut. He shook his head as he took his seat. The _Slave I_ was already bursting free from the hangar.

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Onboard the Cruiser Calam barked orders to his men.

"Tell the Damorians to back off. We're taking this fool. Carrack Cruisers are the fastest ships in the Imperial fleet."

An officer reluctantly prepped the new ship for lift off. He knew better than to question orders or point out his superior officer's limited knowledge of Imperial ship specs. Insubordination would be rewarded with death. But Calam was not thinking clearly. The officer couldn't completely stop himself.

"Sir, are you sure about this? We haven't even done any diagnostics yet, and Imperial regulations demand such tests in the event of a newly built vessel. Besides, that bounty hunter pierced our hull. Who knows what else he was doing in here? There could be more damage. He's just one man, sir, and we should be cautious with a new vessel."

With their new powerful shields, Calam was confident they could crush this criminal's petty starship. He was disgusted that a fellow officer would show any fear of one single human. Caution and fear were synonyms, in the mind of Calam. This ship could destroy Lord Vader himself. Yes, there was no doubt of that. He was invincible and safe here. This Fett ran away after all. He was a cowardly assassin, who could not face him in true battle. He had tried to kill an Imperial officer. Fett may as well have attacked a Krayt Dragon with stun baton. The Dragon was about to bite back. Calam would kill him first. Calam would kill Boba Fett. The Emperor would reward him for removing a dangerous criminal from the galaxy. There was no doubt. He would win.

The officer could see the Calam's eyes staring blankly ahead, sweat pouring down the Commander's face. He knew his Commander had already forgotten his question. Calam was in his own world now, and he was dragging all of them with him. The officer gave the signal to launch. Fett's hole had been sealed over with a temporary force field generator. The Cruiser was no worse for the wear, as it began its ascent in pursuit of the much smaller starship. The _Slave I's_ onboard computer got a lock on the large vessel, as Calam's ship began closing in from behind. It was much faster than his small starship. Fett was not nearly ready to jump into hyperspace. But then, that had never been his goal. Fett held a small detonator in his hand as the Firespray ship reached the void of space. Without hesitation, he pressed the button. The Cruiser exploded in a shower of sparks and debris.

_--- and a backup plan._

Fett hated to use his backup plans however, as they usually involved more deaths than the target. While he was cutting the durasteel hull, Fett's droid covered the surface with countless camouflaged explosives at strategic points. He knew even if they managed to get the ship started, the shields would be outside the explosives and thus would be no protection. Without his men, this Imperial officer was just another overconfident gambler. And without its shields for protection, an Imperial Cruiser was a sitting duck, with or without a reinforced hull. Once again, Fett had won, but he took no pleasure in this hunt. Over a hundred men had died needlessly. Being ruthless without being sadistic was Fett's preferred course. But while he hated unnecessary deaths, he hated the thought of failure even more. It was not the killing that was the sin of this hunt, it was the failure of his primary plan. But there had been no alternative. The widespread belief that Fett had never failed to acquire a target was his most powerful weapon. He intended to make sure that always remained true. Shaking his head in regret at this misadventure, Fett quickly hacked into the Damorian computer system erasing all evidence that he'd been there. He had no fear from the Empire, but he'd hate to lose such a potentially lucrative employer. Lord Vader always had a job or two for him. They would be unlikely to believe the Damorians if they told them a lone bounty hunter had destroyed an entire capital ship. He preferred not to think what they would do to the Damorians for making the Cruiser malfunction. Displeased, the Mandalorian shot into hyperspace, just as the Damorian fighters burst free of the atmosphere.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Binding: A Boba Fett Adventure

Author: Mr. Roboto

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting, only the story built around them.

Note: This is my first story, please be as brutally honest as possible.

**Chapter 2**

Fett entered into Hutt space, having already put the memory of his mistakes against the Carrack Cruiser out of his mind. There was no room for dwelling on the past. Fett lived only in the present and the future. The past did not haunt those that refused to acknowledge it. Fett had enough dangers to worry about in the present. Looming below his ship was a notorious planet called Nal Hutta. It was a den of organized crime, one of the many worlds operated by the Hutts. It was actually their main base of operations, a planet choked with smoke and death. Fett hailed one of the smaller palaces. Even the lowest of Hutt gangsters lived extravagantly. It turned the bounty hunter's stomach. His comm opened up and a deep voice spoke through the ship's translator,

"Ah, Boba Fett. I'm surprised to see you back so soon. I hope the most famous bounty hunter in the galaxy hasn't given up."

Boba Fett felt a stir of annoyance at the Hutt's sarcastic tone. Even in the monotone of a translator he could read it. He had spent decades building a reputation, it was always bothersome when people were too dumb to understand what that meant. Even such ruthless villains as Lord Vader and Jabba gave him the respect he had earned. But some people were only impressed by themselves, they had no capacity to respect the abilities of others. The blubbering Hutt speaking into his ship was one of many self-absorbed individuals. This was the first time Fett had taken a contract from the Hutt known as Lomon the Lustful. Lomon was fairly new on the scene, and with a disrespectful attitude like that he wouldn't last long.

_The rest of the Hutts will eat him alive. Literally._

Of course, Lomon paid well, very well, so Fett could ignore the Hutt's poor attitude. Lomon paid as well as any of the richest Hutts. That was very unusual. The hunter imagined he had a wealthier benefactor in the Hutt crime ring who saw some use in Lomon. But he didn't really know for sure. Even Fett was skeptical of his own theory, as Lomon had no use Fett could see. In the end, the bounty hunter didn't know or care where all the credits came from, as long as they found their way into his pocket. Fett returned the comm, speaking with brevity, as usual.

"The target is dead. I have it all on record. Transfer the credits to my account."

Lomon murmured something, in a rather surprised tone. But he recovered quickly,

"Don't be hasty. You'll get your payment. But I prefer to conduct such business in person."

Fett, in contrast, hated conducting such business in person, especially with an untrustworthy Hutt. Hutt palaces were always full of alcohol, spice, and overconfident wannabes, a dangerous combination. A lot of people imagined making their name by killing someone famous, a sad dream Fett had often brought back to reality. He loathed the waste of it all. Fett wanted to get away somewhere and rest. He had hundreds of bounties waiting to be collected and he would need his strength. Lomon broke the silence again before Fett could reply,

"I have another job you may be interested in."

For a bounty hunter like Boba Fett, potential credits always won out over personal comfort. He could make as much money with one job for Lomon as he could with all of those waiting bounties combined. He sighed,

"I'm on my way down."

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Light years away, Imperial Prefect Joran Kaeling crept through the streets of Mos Eisley. From his appearance, few would guess Joran was an Imperial officer. He had no trace of the calm confidence exuded by Imperial types. The short, rotund man's tattered clothing didn't help either. But such simple attire was necessary when prowling the streets of Mos Eisley. The old man was trying, badly, to go undercover.

As he stumbled through the streets, sticking out like a soar thumb on a Rancor, Kaeling tried to imagine how he had lived on this planet for so long without learning a single thing about its people. Kaeling had been assigned to the planet Tatooine for ten years now, and this was a side of the planet he had never seen. In fact, he hadn't really seen much of the planet at all. He was beginning to wonder whether he hadn't been shirking his duty spending all those years behind his desk. All manner of seedy smugglers, intimidating mercenaries, and undesirable criminals roamed the alleys and cantinas. It was a disaster area. He was not naïve, he'd known Tatooine was no bed of roses. He also knew he wasn't allowed to intervene. The Empire had arrangements with the gangsters here. But to actually see it, to see how horrible it really was, made him question whether the Empire hadn't made a mistake.

_I'm certainly making one._

Kaeling wallowed in self-pity as he walked, terror dripping from his body. Why was he worried about the locals? He needed to start worrying about himself. Well, worrying more anyway. This was no place for an Imperial officer, especially one of his class. As Joran continued his fretting, he suddenly bumped into a large Devaronian. The creature growled and roughly shoved him to the ground. Its demonic face laughed harshly as Joran fell into a pile of dung, probably left by the alien himself. Joran was awash with anger and fear. Aliens were naturally filthy creatures. And one had actually _touched _him.

_We'll see how much he laughs when I come back with an Imperial garrison._

Of course, deep down Joran knew it was an empty threat. If he had control of even one soldier, let alone an entire garrison, he wouldn't be doing this. Either way, he could at least be happy his disguise seemed to be working. The creature obviously considered him a common street urchin. Though somehow he suspected the Devaronian didn't really care who he was. That was the problem with these monsters. Joran pulled himself to his feet indignantly,

_I can't believe the nerve of these . . . aliens._

Joran could tolerate the heat. He could even tolerate the whiny moisture farmers coming to him every time a Tusken Raider blinked at them wrong. Those things he could ignore or circumvent. It was the swarm of unsavory nonhumans that he hated most about this backwater job. A sudden gust of wind reminded him of what he hated second most. He struggled to rub the painful grains of sand from his eye. It was always sandy, even in the cushy Imperial base. It was in the water, the food, everywhere. He wanted to scream with the futility of it all. Kaeling vowed never to go to the beach once he got out of this cesspool. As he struggled to get the sand out, he slammed right into a tall humanoid. He began screaming hysterically as the man pulled him to his feet, a thousand horrible deaths at the hands of some angry Trandoshan playing out in his mind. A slap across the face brought him back to reality. A disgusted looking man in seemingly plain clothes stared back at him. Yet his stature, and fierce gaze told the Prefect he was something more. This man stuck out as much as Kaeling did, though for much different reasons. He was tall, with silvering hair, and a sharp-featured face. The man's gray eyes bored into Kaeling's soul. His commanding tone confirmed his identity.

"I'm Internal Counter-intelligence Lieutenant Orion Astrum. I believe you requested my presence."

Both men had already known each other from previous encounters. But Orion always pretended as if they were meeting for the first time. Kaeling knew Astrum just liked to introduce himself, title and all. It was the normal nature of an Imperial officer. Pride was their greatest strength and greatest weakness.

"Didn't you even bath before you came here Kaeling?"

Joran Kaeling frowned at the insult.

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Moments later the men were in the back of the local cantina. The introductions complete, they spoke in hushed tones.

"I don't see the need for all this secrecy Kaeling. I don't know why I agreed to this. A member of IntCon, or a Prefect for that matter, is not supposed to be walking around in the dirty clothes of a common peasant."

The Lieutenant was annoyed, and a little angry. Kaeling was a pencil-pusher, the type of officer Orion hated the most. No experience in combat, and no love for the Empire. They had no interest in the Emperor's grand vision. Technical Kaeling outranked Orion, but Intelligence Officers were given an almost complete free hand. So practically he could have Kaeling executed for treason on the spot. It wasn't in Orion to insult his position by throwing people to the lions on a whim. But Kaeling didn't know that.

"Why couldn't we have this meeting at your Imperial outpost? You know, the place where members of the Empire are supposed to conduct business? The place we built so we could escape this rotting hell hole? You do know that much about your job don't you?"

Orion knew he was foolish in agreeing to meet the unstable Prefect, but he also knew he'd had no choice but to come here. Kaeling had promised that he had evidence of high treason within the Imperial ranks. This was the kind of evidence that got a Lieutenant a commendation from the Emperor himself. Orion had visions of himself standing at the Emperor's right hand. Any way to make that impossible dream a reality, was worth trying. But now that he was here, he was having second thoughts.

"Because, _Lieutenant_, it is no longer safe for me there," Kaeling's eyes continually darted to the other patrons as he spoke, "I have reason to believe your associate Inquisitor Balmont has made a deal with the Hutts."

"Made a deal with the Hutts!"

He slapped Kaeling on the shoulder. It was not a hearty slap, but a genuine attempt to hurt the Prefect.

"That's the most hilarious thing you've ever said."

Of course, there was no laughter in his voice, only anger. Orion had been duped.

"In fact, I'm pretty sure it's the only funny thing you've ever said. Aside from when you informed me of your promotion to Prefect. Fortunately, that's a joke that can be taken back."

The Lieutenant's voice rang out a bit too loudly, causing a few heads to turn. He lowered his voice, barely containing his rage.

"Inquisitor Balmont Kan was sent here to investigate and determine if it was possible to take down the Hutts, to remove their influence from this planet and as you well know she's the best. She would not need to lower herself to dealing with gangsters. You are going up on charges for wasting my time and making false accusations. I promise you will be shipped to the Spice Mines of Kessel within the week. Or perhaps we'll let the Inquistor deal with you herself."

Kaeling shivered at the thought. But he was not going to back down.

"Don't you think I know that? Everyone knows who Balmont is. But I'm telling you, I found evidence first hand. She's slowly been gaining control of the Imperial presence on Tatooine. She has taken more power than even I have. There is not a single trustworthy Imperial left here. She has gained control to the very last storm trooper."

The Lieutenant was clearly not impressed.

"Look Kaeling, I don't have time for this. You brought me out here so you could get off this rock with some crazy story you concocted. Well you'll get your wish. I will make you regret this."

Orion moved to leave.

"Wait you fool! I said I have proof. Sit down. That's an order."

Kaeling reached into his pocket and withdrew a small chip. He handed it over to the Inquisitor, along with a datapad.

"I stole these from the central command on Tatooine during an inspection. Just look at the datapad."

Orion glanced skeptically at Kaeling. He wasn't sure which he believed less, that the chip had proof or that Kaeling would actually do an inspection. His uninterested eyes looked to the view screen. Orion watched in horror as an Imperial officer was set upon by some sort of black entity. The creature held him down as an Imperial lab technician injected him with what appeared to be a sedative. Or perhaps poison. Once he was still several doctors moved in, and began to drill a hole into his skull. In the background, Orion could see the dark visage of Inquisitor Balmon Croyle. He saw the sinister smile on her face as she watched them work on the officer. It almost looked like she was staring into the camera . . .

Orion turned his head disgusted, unable to look at the grisly scene. He examined the other item Kaeling had handed him, a small perfectly round disk, barely the size of his thumb nail. Kaeling's voice broke his thoughts,

"That thing controls the minds of others. It's set to obey her alone. I think it requires the influence of her . . . "

Kaeling lowered his voice to an even lower whisper, if that were possible.

" . . . magic. I have seen her give commands to troops with a mere thought. To be honest, I don't completely understand it all. I know what you think of me Lieutenant Orion, but even I know a coup when I see it."

Orion wasn't so sure about that,

"So you're telling me she has taken control of the entire Imperial garrison. She's smart, but she's only human. I simply cannot believe it. How can I be sure this isn't fabricated?"

Despite his initial horror, Orion wanted it to be true more than anything. This was his chance at greatness. But he was a member of IntCon, and he knew a story when he saw it, even a good story. Kaeling had as much to gain from this as he did. On the other hand, the fear in Kaeling's eyes told the experienced officer he was telling the truth, as far-fetched as it might be. Or at least, Kaeling _believed_ he was telling the truth. Orion's instincts were giving him conflicting views about this.

_It sounds unbelievable. And yet I can't help thinking this is beyond Joran Kaeling to fabricate. I need help. I need to get more IntCon officers out here._

Kaeling's voice had been trembling as he spoke, and he was not skilled enough to fake such fear for an IntCon officer's benefit. Kaeling had always been a coward, but there was a new level of fear in his tone. Orion heard it again as the man spoke,

"She's not alone in this though, that's the part you are missing Lieutenant. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Balmont may not have the means to procure this type of technology, but the Hutts certainly do. Before they stopped listening to me, some of my officers reported incoming encrypted transmissions from Nal Hutta. I'm sure they'd be more than willing in exchange for a continued lax attitude by the Imperial presence here on Tatooine and then the Sector, and then perhaps the entire Imperial section of the galaxy. The Hutts could become actual partners instead of merely trying to work in the system. With the protection of a mind controlled Empire, they would be unstoppable. The Hutts know she has the same magic that the Emperor does. They would be willing to risk it, especially with the recent victories of the Rebels. A Rebel controlled galaxy means laws against slave trading, gambling, spice runs, you name it. The Empire's laws are flexible if the price is right. Rebels possess the Hutts' worst fear: Nobility."

Lieutenant Orion Astrum was quickly becoming frightened himself. If this was all true, than the entire Empire could be in danger. Suddenly his thoughts of ambition seemed selfish. He couldn't get a promotion if he was dead or some kind of mind slave. Orion couldn't believe he was being won over by Kaeling's arguments. But he was starting to hear the ring of truth in them. Inquisitor Balmont was definitely ruthless enough to do this. At twenty-five, she was the youngest Inquisitor in the Empire. Some even claimed she was associated with the long extinct Jedi in some way. She was purported to have a mastery of skills not unlike the Emperor's wizardry. All Inquisitors were rumored to possess strange abilities, but the tales were always darkest when Balmont Kan was involved. Unlike the other Inquisitors, she had never been able to gain the favor of the Emperor. Only by the grace of Lord Vader had she advanced. The Emperor had approved her unprecedented advancement, but there was something about her that caused him to send her to this hell of a world. Something that even the Emperor was wary of, perhaps. It was a wild thought. But if those rumors were true, she would certainly not be content with merely controlling Tatooine. Orion of course had never believed in magic, and was disappointed the Emperor and Lord Vader did.

_Nevertheless, I can't dismiss it all out of hand._

A new thought helped bring the IntCon Lieutenant back to the present.

"If she has this technology, why not just take over your mind?"

That had bothered Kaeling as well, though it had hurt his pride more than anything.

"My best guess is, I'm expendable. It's not hidden she's been unsatisfied with her job as Inquisitor It would probably be more convenient if I had an . . . accident of some sort. It would be harder to explain my sudden demise if they found a hole drilled in my head once they sent dead carcass back. She could become a Prefect."

Orion wasn't so sure. He smelled a trap, either from Kaeling or from Balmont herself. If this all was true, it would be the latter. Kaeling didn't have the guts anyway. Orion suddenly felt uncomfortably exposed. Command of this planet would be a demotion for someone like Balmont, regardless of how disatisfied she might be. She had another reason for letting Kaeling go free, if this was all what it appeared to be.

"You've done well. I will head back immediately. I suggest you flee as well, while you still can. A transport will be waiting for you in the Jundland Wastes. We will return with more troops."

As the two men departed, neither could know the control of Inquisitor Balmont was far more widespread than either could have imagined. A Rodian bartender's superior hearing had overheard the entire conversation from the other side of the noisy cantina. Its bug eyes displayed a sinister dark presence hidden within.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Binding: A Boba Fett Adventure

Author: Mr. Roboto

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the setting, just the story built around them.

Note: This is my first story, so please be brutally honest. And please review! I don't know if this is good, or crap. Also, in Ch. 2 I referred to Balmont Kan as Balmon Croyle one time. That's a result of name experimentation and not enough editing. It's Balmont Kan, as the rest of the story has referred to her.

**Chapter 3**

Deep within the Imperial garrison, Inquisitor Balmont Kan sat in deep meditation. Her dark eyes gave the impression one was speaking to a wizened elder, instead of a young adult. She was an imposing figure, clothed in all white, and she definitely had a certain beauty about her. Her round face and soft features would normally be considered very beautiful. But it was hard to identify. It was completely overwhelmed by her oppressive aura. It was a painful and terrible kind of beauty. An equally sinister, and silent figure slid from the shadows to join her. She opened her eyes sensing her servant's presence. The dark shadow who called himself Jamian slinked across the darkened room. Most people identified the species as a Wraith. Their true species name was Defel.

Defel Wraiths were rare creatures, and not much was known about their origins. They seemed especially attracted to those who were strong in the Force, and they had a weakness to light. It was how she had found Jamian. The creature was frail when she first found him, trapped in Coruscant's deep underlevels. Mad with hunger, he had foolishly tried to attack her. Somehow he had become stranded there, unable to escape for fear of the bright lights that encompassed the city planet night and day. She had taken him with her, and Jamian quickly grew strong, feeding off her dark energy. He was an extremely intelligent, but simple creature, motivated only by his fondness for stealth and violence. He had proven quite useful. However, that didn't make the interruption any less annoying,

"You'd better have a good reason for bothering my meditation Jamian."

The Wraith hissed in reply, "Of course, my Master. One of our . . . subjects in Mos Eisley has contacted me. It appears . . . Joran is attempting to contact Imperial Command. He managed to smuggle . . . Lieutenant Orion onto the . . . planet, and has told him about your . . . experiments."

The Inquisitor scrunched her face at the hideous sound of the Defel's voice, and the unpleasant cadence of his speech. Balmont was already aware this had all taken place of course. She didn't want even Jamian to know just how much her control had spread. But Balmont had agents in Imperial Command. It was hard to maintain a link over such distances, but not impossible. She knew Orion Astrum had been coming and who had called him.

_Orion is on a fools errand._

She had heard of Lieutenant Orion before this incident. She had hoped it would be him. He had a reputation for his investigative techniques and ruthlessness that rivaled her own. If he was more ambitious Balmont would have considered allowing him in on her little scheme. Unfortunately, he was completely loyal to the Empire, and his ambition was sadly tied to that reality. He was a true believer, a waste of talent. That was what she was counting on though. No one would suspect him of treason, not a member of IntCon. It was time to start spreading her control even further.

"A minor inconvenience. We will deal with it.."

It was all part of her plan. A small sound came forth from Balmont's wristlink.

"It appears it is time to contact our esteemed Hutt associate. Our package has arrived there. I believe you have two curious Imperials to take care of? I need Orion alive. You may play with Kaeling."

Hissing with pleasure, the Wraith pulled back into the shadows, "Yes . . . Master"

Inquisitor Balmont walked over to the control panel of her private quarters. The bloated image of the Hutt Lomon appeared before her. His grotesque fat rolls shook as he spoke. Like all Hutts, he had a distinct rumble to his voice, as if his own girth was constantly choking him. Balmont often mused at a Hutt's ability to be so completely revolting, yet so admirably cunning at the same time. Though she had to admit, Lomon wasn't as gifted as most Hutts in the cunning half and a bit too well endowed in the level of revulsion he elicited in others. She had known that at the beginning though. He was trusting her after all. It took a particularly low kind of intellect to manage that. She was doing him a favor anyway. He would have been dispatched immediately by the other Hutts if she had not taken him under her wing. Of course, eventually, he would be dispatched by her, it was inevitable. It seemed Lomon had been doomed from birth, no matter which path he took.

"I hope you have good news Lomon."

The hologram clearly showed the Hutt's pudgy hands rubbing together as he spoke. In a few years, they would not even be able to touch anymore. The richer a Hutt got, the bigger they got. It was almost as if they fed off wealth itself.

"Of course Inquisitor. Fett is entering the atmosphere now. Did you really think I couldn't capture a simple bounty hunter?"

Balmont betrayed no emotion as she once again contemplated the Hutt's lack of cunning. But she knew his loyalty more than covered for his absence of vision.

"You haven't caught anything yet. Don't let me down Lomon. I'm sure the Hutt Elders wouldn't appreciate you plotting with the Empire behind their back."

Lomon looked as if he was about to say something, but thought better of it. His massive head gave a barely discernible nod,

"I'll do my part."

Balmont didn't reply, abruptly cutting off the communication. The Hutt wasn't completely devoid of intelligence after all. He knew enough not to give her any trouble. She returned to her meditation.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fett carefully piloted the _Slave I_ onto the surface of Nal Hutta. He gazed out his viewport at the two battered Headhunters flanking his ship. Fett wondered at the stupidity of other creatures sometimes. Numbers weren't everything. He could have easily dispatched the two fighters, plugged a couple of missiles into Lomon's base, and made his escape into hyperspace before any other ships got off the ground. His ship was in much better shape, and had much more recent upgrades. Those fighters were sloppy and outdated, and probably piloted by slaves who would turn tail at the first sign of danger. No slave would die for its master. The Hutt invested more in his own blubber than his defense. Even at his most greedy, most other Hutts knew enough to shield themselves from assassins. Lomon's stupidity was starting to worry him. Stupid creatures with lots of power were very dangerous. But Fett knew Lomon was no match for him.

_It is all about maintaining one's arsenal and one's mind. If you don't take care of your equipment, right down to the smallest detail, it won't take care of you. A Mandalorian without his armor and without his ship is just a common thug. A Hutt without brains is just a common thug. You have to have both parts. Too bad this Hutt doesn't appear to have either. But he pays well. And that's what I'm here for._

As Fett exited the ship, and entered Lomon's domain, two drooling Gamorreans moved up to escort him. The larger one hesitantly reached for his blaster pistol. Fett handed it over without protest. It was a formality, that most of his employers would not bother with. Both he and Lomon knew Fett was still well armed. It was a waste of time, a foolish assertion that Lomon was the one in command. Fett was not one to succumb to psychological games. The hunter looked at the room around him. Musicians of all varieties were playing their tunes. Drunk guests were wandering in all directions. The room was decorated with bright colors and frills. It was a cacophony of idiocy.

_More ignorance. The place is too crowded. The soldiers could be cut down by snipers, while the crowd prevented the defenders from getting off a shot. There's no attention to detail here at all._

As Fett's scarred Mandalorian armor reflected in the pig-head's chest plate, Fett could see how the marks seemed to be in direct conflict of his attention to detail rule. But, like everything else with the bounty hunter, the scratches and blaster marks on his armor had a purpose. Intimidation was useful, as evidenced by the Gamorrean's hesitance to demand the Mandalorian's weapon. Over the years Fett had aged just like any other human. He was not quite as quick on the draw, not quite as strong, and not quite as fast. He was still all of those things, of course. Just a little less than before. But those small inefficiencies could mean the difference between life and death. There were things that replaced such physical losses, if one played their cards right. The wear and tear on his armor, and the very name _Fett_ were equally useful at repelling enemies. These days it was better for him to avoid fighting. The marks were merely a façade, his armor worked as if it was brand new. But the perception they left in people were one of his strongest weapons.

_Fear can do strange things to a person._

Fett ended his musings as he appeared before the Hutt. Lomon laughed heartily, as he watched the holo-image Fett had handed his major-domo, a modified protocal droid. Apparently the death of an entire Imperial Cruiser's crew amused Lomon. Fett wasn't surprised. All Hutts were greedy, and vile creatures. Although, Lomon was a little too vile for his own good. The droid translated,

"You did well Fett, though from what I've heard you usually have more subtle and creative ways of ending lives."

It was true. Client's paid extra for creativity, and blowing up a ship wasn't exactly his most creative effort. But he didn't appreciate a two-bit gangster telling him how to do his job. Fett's voice came out, with a touch of annoyance. He was sure that escaped Lomon though. The hunter rarely spoke, so his unused voice was always faint.

"Didn't you mention another target?"

Lomon laughed once again. Something about the Hutt's laughter was beginning to rub him the wrong way. It was different somehow from how Hutt's usually laughed, almost as if he was holding in a private joke. Fett always noticed details like that.

"Yes, business as always I see. I am friends with an Imperial Inquisitor on Tatooine. It seems she needs a test subject for her experiments. Someone with a strong will to test just how powerful her new procedure is."

Fett sighed beneath his helmet. Client's needed to be specific.

"I don't work like that. You have to have a name or a face. Your friend needs a slave trader."

Lomon laughed for a third time. He hated the bounty hunter before him. The man's arrogance and disrespect for a god, as many Hutt's believed themselves to be, was infuriating. His hand slammed on his dais.

"No my pompous friend. She wants you. You are a slow one aren't you?"

Fett's jaw nearly dropped off. That was the last thing he expected a coward like Lomon to say. Hutts knew better than to target bounty hunters without reason. Especially Fett. No one cared for him, of course, but powerful figures depended on his services. He was protected because he was invaluable to men like Jabba. The Hutts had strict rules about these sorts of things. Perhaps Fett had relied a bit too much on that. It was obvious Lomon wasn't joking.

_My own arrogance has caught up with me. I'm getting too old._

Fett subtly brought his hands together in front of him. He had stepped in it this time. It was his second mistake in forty-eight hours. The bounty hunter was distressed about that fact more than his current predicament. Fett's weak voice emerged from his helmet again, in perhaps the longest speech he'd made in months.

"Don't be foolish Lomon. The Hutt elders would not forgive you for betraying a hunter like this. Especially me. You live on Nal Hutta, and that means they control you even more than usual. Jabba himself would think twice before pulling this, and he's light years away from such retribution. You are still a rookie at all this, don't screw up so early."

Lomon continued laughing. Fett wanted to hurt Lomon very badly. It was hard to maintain self-control. He was embarrassed at being caught in Lomon's sick joke. He had been so stupid. But he couldn't fight his way out. Not until he was in position.

"Don't worry Fett. The nature of the experiment is such that you will not disappear. No one will be the wiser. I can tell you are confused, as a lesser being would be. All will be clear in time."

_Now. Time to wipe that smirk off, Hutt._

At that moment, Fett crouched down pressing the activation button on his wristlink. The _Slave I_ was about to wipe this building off the face of Nal Hutta. Fett waited for several moments. He couldn't understand. Nothing was happening.

"Is there a problem Mr. Fett? You see, last time you were here my agents discovered that you were in constant contact with your starship. Your frequencies have been jammed. You'd think a detailed oriented bounty hunter like yourself would pay attention to that sort of thing. But I guess you were so sure your employers would protect you, you didn't think to check. What a foolish act. Take this bucket head."

Gammoreans moved in, pulling stun batons from their belts. The first one swung high, but Fett was already moving. He ducked under the blow, his armored fist breaking the beast's jaw. A second Gamorrean had charged forward. It's elbow hit Fett's back and sent them both onto the floor. Fett reached into his belt, pulling out a small holdout blaster. The shots rang out and the creature slumped off the hunter. Fett was on his feet immediately.

_My only hope is to cut the head off the snake._

He began firing at each creature that came near him. But there were far too many. The first stun baton blow struck his right shoulder. The armor absorbed most of the shock. Fett fought back as more and more blows found their mark. The armor wasn't completely protecting him. Pain began to spread overh is body. He moved to activate his flamethrower, but they were swarming him. They smashed him between each other as they rained blow after blow, hitting each other as much as him. They were stupid creatures, which made this all the more difficult for Fett to stomach. Fett got out one final shot as his arm was wildly thrown from side to side. Lomon screamed in pain as his shoulder was struck by a blaster bolt. Hutt skin was thick though, and the creature's cowardly cries of pain rang loudly as the Gamorreans backed off Fett's sprawled form. His helmet had an unsightly dent squarely on the top. The Gamorreans new enough to concentrate their blows, it seemed.

"He almost killed me, you morons. Get me a medic now, before I skin you all."

Lomon continued to cry out in agony at his minor flesh wound.

"Leave his armor and helmet on. Balmont's orders. But strip them of anything remotely technological. And get me medical attention now!"

Though Lomon wanted to see the hunter's true face more than anything, he knew better than to disobey. Balmont always knew, somehow, even when he ignored the most trivial of her commands. He feared her because of her magic, but hadn't thought twice about Fett's threats. The bounty hunter was just another scumbag in a universe full of them. Lomon was two hundred years old. He didn't care if the other Hutts took insolence from Fett. Lomon was going to see to it that the Hutts ruled this universe, not the mortals. Well, he was going to see that Lomon ruled this universe at least. Men like Fett should be his slaves, not his employees.

"Remove his weapons too. Be thorough, his suit is full of hidden surprises."

As if in confirmation, a Gamorrean cried out as his hand was pierced with a deadly, poisonous dart. The suit had many traps. But there were just as many Gamorreans to test them. As Fett struggled to remain conscious he had only one final thought.

_Do whatever you want to me Hutt, just don't touch my helmet. Don't you dare remove my mask. Please . . . Or I will have your heart._

Fett's anonymity was his whole life. He did not want to die as a common thug, his likeness paraded for all to mock. For the first time, the hunter felt the fear he'd so often seen in his enemies. The only thing he could think about as he fell into the darkness was what a strange feeling fear was.


End file.
